


Time to come home

by gottalovev



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civilian John Sheppard, Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6557233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/pseuds/gottalovev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years ago, John Sheppard flipped a coin and didn't go to Atlantis. Out of the Air Force and now working as a photographer, he is offered a job on Atlantis for a public relations operation. In short, this is a story about second chances and how John finds his home, his team, and love in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to come home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Photographer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551425) by [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/pseuds/Antares). 



> This fic was made for the [SGA reversebang](http://sgareversebang.livejournal.com) on LJ, where I was inspired by the beautiful art by Antares
> 
> Please go see it, and be amazed at how great it is! :)
> 
> This is an Alternate Universe in the shape of a divergent timeline, but it drops back in 'canon' in season 4 or so (spoilers for the series)

John is trying to decide which of the headshots will work best for the new company portrait of the senior vice-president of the D. N. & L. Law Firm. He hesitates between two: the picture that screams 'I'm a lot richer than you,' and the one where she conveys 'they'll never find your body if you cross me'. 

She seems as if she'd enjoy both.

"Are you kidding me?" 

Ben's exclamation snaps John out of his groove. Not even aware he has disturbed John's concentration, Ben is intently reading something on his computer screen, but soon leaps up and goes to open the office's TV. There must be something huge going on, because John can see reporters and news item rolling on the bottom of the screen on almost every channel as Ben flips through them. Maybe there's been an attack, or someone super famous died. 

Then Ben repeats himself. "Are you kidding me? Portals going to other planets? Jesus!"

And huh, so that news is out. Frankly, John had thought it would never be disclosed.

"Can you believe that?" Ben turns to John, eyes wide and flushed with excitement. John is caught not knowing how to react.

He cannot really say, "Yeah, got asked about four years ago to go through one of those - but I got tails when I flipped a coin and said no." 

To be honest, it's one of the biggest sources of 'what if's' of John's life.

"Crazy," he says instead.

After he'd refused the General's offer, John had made it another nine months at McMurdo before finally calling it quits with the Air Force. Now here he is, somehow, having turned a hobby into a job, and his ex-job into a hobby (he must take out his Columbia 300 next weekend, fly a bit; it's been too long).

John figures that such a momentous public reveal allows him to stop working to go sit on the desk behind Ben to watch the coverage. Whoever is in charge of the information has tight control over it; no matter what channel Ben chooses, it shows the same images of a Stargate's kawoosh and puddle, before someone steps out. It's impressive, even to John, who has heard about it before. It must be mind-blowing for regular folks. John sees a couple of faces on the news that he might have seen in Antarctica, though not the General. 

John wonders if the expedition made it. They're talking about Stargates on television, but not one has said 'Atlantis' yet.

**

As one could expect, the Stargate Program is all that everyone talks about for days, and it should remain so for a while. Information is still made public one drop at a time, and most of what is discussed in the media is speculation. 

All over the news, magazines, newspapers, and in the fields of astronomy and physics, the questions appear: who discovered the gates? How do they work, exactly? How is the Earth Gate managed? Is someone exploring other planets? Who’s been the first to go through? Did anything come back with them? Answers to all the questions are few and far between.

Stargate Command, as far as John can see on TV, ends up portrayed as disorganized. More and more, the media takes a negative bias. Everyone wonders if the brass under the Mountain can protect Earth. 

Of course, that is only the tip of the iceberg. A faction of religious nut jobs is announcing the end of humanity as we know it, while other groups are ready to leap in the arms of aliens, if they come through the gate. 

Through it all, still no news about Atlantis.

**

Tina and Jan at the reception desk are whispering to each other when John enters the building. 

"What's up, ladies?" he asks.

Jan cranes her neck towards the open office, and looks back at John with trepidation.

"The Army is there," she says. "We have no idea why."

Well, that's unusual indeed. John would be surprised that the company took pictures that could be of interest to the military, apart – maybe - through some freak accident. Or the Army is here for a person, which would also be a shock. His boss, Nolan Rudd, might be a douche, but he's probably not a person of interest in _anything_ at all, whatever he might think. 

"Have they been here long?" John asks.

"No, maybe ten minutes ago. We were wondering if we should bring them coffee," Tina says.

"I think it's a safe bet," John says. 

He knows very few enlisted who'd turn down a cup of coffee.

There is no way to be sure about what is going on without asking questions, or at a minimum, getting into the office proper. John decides to investigate, and salutes the women with a nod. 

"Whatever they are here for, there is work to do," John says with a little wave.

"Yeah. And no one is telling us anything," Tina says, unimpressed.

The open floor plan makes it easy to spot the soldiers standing guard near Rudd's office. It means that their superior - or someone else important - is in a meeting with John's douche of a boss. The soldier on the left stops his scanning of the floor for a second when he sees John, though he nonchalantly breaks eye contact seconds later to continue his survey. 

John's flight or fight instinct flares: it's suddenly very clear that these men are here for _him_. There was recognition in the guard's eyes, and it's certainly not because they've met before. The guy is a baby, and must have been in basic when John quit. If he leaves now, he can avoid whatever they want, at least for now. But then again, why run? John's done nothing wrong - nothing that he is aware of, anyway. 

Ben and Matt are at their desks, pretending to work but busy throwing looks at the guards. Instead of letting the charade continue by going to his own computer, John walks towards Rudd's office. He stops before the young guard who straightens up and seems a second away from saluting.

"Private Gorelli," John says, reading the nametag. "Here for me?"

All to his credit, the young man doesn't play stupid.

"Yes, Major," he says, and raps his knuckles against the door in a staccato pattern.

"Ah, well, not a Major anymore, as you perfectly know," John says. 

Rudd opens the door, face flushed with excitement. He all but drags John in.

"There you are!" he exclaims. "Told you he was about to come in!"

"Major Sheppard," the blonde woman officer says, with a salute that John returns instinctively. It's been awhile since an officer inspired that kind of reaction. She seems all business, but there is a fierce intelligence and definitive calculation in her blue eyes. "It's nice to meet you. I am Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter."

John shakes her extended hand and wonder about the use of his ex-title. He's definitely being buttered up and he wonders _why_.

"Likewise, Colonel," John says. "What can I do for you?"

"They request NR Studio's services," Rudd says, all but bouncing in place. 

It makes all of John's thoughts scratch to a halt.

"What?"

"We need a photographer," Colonel Carter says. "And we think you'd be the perfect candidate."

NASA and the military can get anyone to take photographs for them; they don't need a small firm in California for it. If they are coming to him, it's for a reason. And that reason has to be the gene, and by extension, the Atlantis expedition.

"They made it?" he asks, inexplicably relieved. He didn't owe anything to those people, but over the years he's wondered whether he should have had their sixes.

Colonel Carter starts to smile, pleased to see that John’s gotten it. "It was touch and go for a while, but yes, they made it. Most of them." 

"Good, good," John says. He doesn't like the sound of 'most of them', but it doesn't sound terrible.

Rudd looks a bit puzzled by the exchange. 

"You know each other?" he asks.

"No," John replies. 

"We have some mutual friends," Colonel Carter says with a smile. 

"We want to document the activities of the SGC," she tells him. "For security reasons, we are looking at candidates with military experience."

"And you thought of little old me. How sweet," John says, sitting down.

"It's a fantastic opportunity," Rudd says, puffing up like a peacock. "Of course NR Studios would be flattered to-"

"Hey!" John protests: Rudd is basically making the decision for him, and even Colonel Carter looks annoyed.

"We do not need an answer right away," she tells John, getting up and offering him a business card. "though... I trust you understand that time is of the essence."

"Of course," he says. 

"If it makes any difference at all, I'll be heading out myself to take charge in Pegasus," she says. 

"Sumner?" John dares to ask.

She shakes her head, message loud and clear. So yeah, they got hit, and the 'most of them' sounds a lot more painful.

The logical thing to do would be to let the Colonel walk out, and then write down the pros and cons of getting back in the fray. Sleep on it, and then make a decision. Instead, the words get out of his mouth with pretty much no conscious thought.

"I'll go. When do we leave?"

***

Being in the middle of the group that is about to gate to Atlantis is like a strange sort of dissociation. For four years now, John has wondered if he’d done the right thing by refusing to leave the planet with the original expedition. Now it's like he has a second chance to find out, and he doesn't know how to feel about that. Life isn't that generous, in his experience. 

His colleagues Ben and Matt are green with their envy of John's new assignment. 

"I don't get it," Ben complains. "What makes you so special? I'm sure the Army has tons of soldiers passable with a camera."

"Must be my charm," John jokes, gathering his equipment. No way was he about to admit he has what amounts to extraterrestrial genes.

Still buzzing at how his firm was chosen for that important task, Rudd had said he'd pay for any camera and lenses John needed; John had no remorse whatsoever to take him at his word, so here he is, wearing black BDUs (with red patches, because he's not science or medical, and he's certainly not military anymore). Instead of a gun, John has his camera bags. Frankly? He feels naked, and he's been caught by Carter throwing longing looks at the Marines' P-90s.

"How are you feeling, Sheppard?" she stopped giving him his ex-rank as soon as he arrived at Cheyenne Mountain. 

For the last week, John's been given videos to watch and files to read, all of which feel purged of a lot of things. 

"I'm fine," he says, playing it cool. He takes his camera out, because he'll feel better with it than empty handed. "And you can call me John, by the way."

She smiles, and, not for the first time, John thinks she's a beautiful woman. Not his type, but definitely extremely intelligent, and that makes her ‘de facto’ sexy. 

"Then call me Sam."

"Is it okay if I take pictures before we leave?" John asks. Maybe it will make him less nervous to see things through his viewfinder.

"It's what we're paying you for, John," Sam says with a laugh. "As long as you remember that the SGC is the ultimate owner of all material, of course. We will chose what goes public or not, and as far as I'm concerned you can take pictures of everything you wish. Save from the women's showers, maybe."

John winks. "That's very specific. Does it mean I can take pics in the men's showers? Maybe I could put together a calendar or something."

It might be of more interest to him, even.

Sam rolls her eyes. "Don't be too much of a smartass, Sheppard. You might not be military anymore, but I'm Head of Expedition for the civilians too."

"Yes, ma'am," John says with a jaunty salute. "When you say jump, I'll ask how high."

"Somehow I doubt that," she answers.

A frazzled little man whisks her away, talking about last minute directions from General O'Neill, which catches John's interest. The old bird is still in the picture, then. Good to know. 

Hovering at the side of the room is Dr. Jackson - the scientist John met in Antarctica; John raises his camera reflexively, and is able to capture several longing looks at the Stargate. Since Jackson had been one of the first travelers, and is probably one of the most experienced, it's not the ‘gating out’ that is of interest to him, but the destination.

John would go talk to the guy, but they are finally giving the signal to go. 

Suddenly, his hands are sweaty. All around him, people are acting as if it's business as usual - which he supposes it is, for them – desensitized at how mind-blowing the concept of a wormhole between planets is. 

The kawoosh of the Stargate opening is impressive, something he'll have to photograph in detail because it's so very cool. Once stabilized, the even horizon looks a whole lot like water. John wonders how it's going to feel, and would guess it's going to be cold. His musing is cut short when Colonel Carter is one of the first to gate out, and John rapidly gets in line to walk up the catwalk towards the portal. Better get in the middle of the ride, just in case. He can't help but to close his eyes tight as he steps through, and after a moment of disorientation he's walking into another room, as easy as that.

He's seized with a weird tingling feeling, and instinctively raises his camera. John takes a few shots, high ceilings and stained glass, a control hub with personnel, Colonel Carter already talking with two men… One of them turns and he's immortalizing a glare thrown his way.

"What the hell?" 

It's McKay, and John can't help but smile as he lowers his camera. He hadn't spent much time with the guy all of those years ago, but he'd had fun riling him up. 

"Hey there, Rodney," he drawls.

Rodney blinks, opens and closes his mouth without saying anything, but then turns his glare towards Colonel Carter.

"What the hell?" he asks her this time. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"Be nice, Rodney," Sam says. "As you know, we went public-"

"And I still resent not being there," Rodney cuts her. "I've waited for that moment for years, Sam, years, and I didn't get the satisfaction-"

Carter cuts him off this time, looking exasperated. "You will be able disclose your research, Rodney, and rub it in their faces. Just be a little more patient. For now, you are needed here, and you know it."

John sees the analogy with how O'Neill keeps Dr. Jackson on a leash immediately, and wonders if Sam realizes she's using the same tactics. As if to back her point, a guy up in the control hub speaks up.

"Doctor McKay, there is a strange power surge."

The combination of being flattered and having a problem to solve works for Rodney, who straightens up; as he walks towards the stairs, he remembers his first annoyance and points at John again. 

"Well, yes, this city would sink again without me, thanks for proving it, Chuck. But what does the declassification have to do with Major Sheppard being here?"

"Aww, you remember me?" John says, walking closer. He doesn't know why it comes out so flirty but Rodney pinks up. 

Interesting.

The little man with wiry hair next to Rodney wipes his round glasses on his science blue shirt before putting them back upon his nose. 

"An exploit, indeed," he says. "If the name is correct, it is a miracle."

"Shut up, Radek. Of course I remember him," Rodney says, scowling now. "Strongest expression of the gene I've ever seen and he left us hanging."

John won't allow getting guilt-tripped about that. He shrugs, "Eh. I'm here now."

"He's the expedition's official photographer," Sam says. Both Rodney and Radek stop and turn to her with similarly astonished faces. "Yes, photographer. The declassification didn't gather the approval we wished for. There's need for a little PR."

"You can't be serious," Rodney says, eyes jumping back to John and eying his camera and then the red of his shirt with disgust. "Not military?"

"Discharged," John says with another raise of shoulder. "But I'm pretty great at portraits."

Rodney gapes again, eyes bugging out, and it's clear that his blood pressure is rapidly climbing. John almost expects him to explode but he seems past that, making an inarticulate sound of rage. Rodney does an about face and climbs the stairs with determination - like a man on a mission that doesn't have time to lose in trivialities. John sees that Sam is biting her lip not to laugh and he grins.

"Well, I think that went pretty great," he drawls.

Radek glares at him. 

"Maybe if you do not have to deal with the fallout. Thank you for that, Mister Sheppard," he says, before hurrying after Rodney, muttering in a foreign language.

"Ooops," John says, not apologetic at all. This assignment is going to be fun.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Sam says, but there's amusement in her eyes, still. "You'll learn pretty fast that antagonizing the Science Division is not the smart thing to do on Atlantis."

"I'll make it up to them," John says. He was honestly just kidding. 

Mostly.

"I hope so, because they can make your life difficult," Sam says. "Come, I want you to meet my Military Head."

On paper, Colonel Lorne is solid, having risen to the challenge brilliantly when he was thrown unexpectedly into the leadership position by the passing of Colonel Sumner in the early days of the mission. In person, he's surprisingly sympathetic, shaking John's hand with a genuine smile.

"Sheppard, good to have you with us," Lorne says. 

As the Military Head of the expedition, it's certain that Lorne has been consulted on John's recruitment, especially considering his military background. With the black mark on John's records in disobeying a direct order and his general reputation of being difficult - including the flounce that led to his discharge - he expected weariness. John also thought he'd be side-eyed since, as a photographer, he will certainly capture sensitive information at one point. It doesn't seem to be the case, at all, which is a very pleasant surprise.

"Thank you," John returns the statement.

What comes out of his mouth next, though, surprises even John himself. 

"When you have time, I'd like to discuss with you the parameters I was given, to double check if it's alright."

There you go. He hadn't planned on asking permission; in fact, he still doesn't feel as he has to, since he'll be censored if needed... but at least with this opening, no one can accuse John of being uncooperative from the start. Lorne's smile widens.

"That sounds great," he says. "Would tomorrow morning after debriefing work for you?"

"Yes, Sir," John says, as genuinely as he has ever agreed to an officer's request. 

He feels a tap on his arm by Colonel Carter, who throws him a smile. It feels like a 'congratulation on playing your cards right with this one' pat, so he's managed to suck up to the Military Head and the Mission Leader at the same time. Good job, if he says so himself. 

"Excellent," Sam says. "Let's go up." 

Probably more introductions to go through, and John figures he'll be at it for a while. He's not a social butterfly, so it's not his favorite part of being the new guy.

As he follows up the stairs, John can feel a vibration through his feet, and he wonders if the place has faulty wiring. It's millions of years old, or so he’d heard.

"What the ever-loving hell?" Rodney says, tapping furiously at the computer set at the console. "This doesn't make any sense."

Sam throws Rodney a concerned look, but once they have reached the first floor up from the gate room, she is beckoning closer a beautiful, short, woman, and a beast of a leather-clad man with dreads. 

"Allow me to introduce you to two of our greatest allies here in Pegasus. Teyla Emmagan, of Athos, master negotiator." The woman bows her head, regal but with a welcoming smile. Sam continues, "And Ronon Dex, of Sateda, strategist and advisor for the fight against the Wraith. Teyla, Ronon, this is John Sheppard, who will be the expedition's photographer." 

Ronon doesn't quite smile, but he isn't hostile either, which John takes as a good sign. His file was short, something about a home civilization destroyed by the baddies of the galaxy and seven years as a runner, whatever that is.

"Great to meet you," John says. "First time off my planet, so I might need a tip or two in Pegasus."

"It will be our pleasure to assist you, Mister Sheppard," Teyla says.

He's about to thank her when Ronon points at John's feet.

"Why does he make the floor light up?" Ronon asks.

It's faint, but now that he pays attention, the tile under John's feet does seem a little lighter than the ones around him. Experimentally, he sidesteps and lo and behold, the luminosity follows him.

"Are you serious?" Rodney says, getting up from the rolling chair he's commanded to stare at the floor as if it's a personal affront to him.

"I'm not doing anything!" John protests. It's not like he consciously asked for it, or wished to brighten the room.

A fraction of a second later the floor is blue and the ambient light brightens visibly in the gate room, making everyone look around in surprise. 

Rodney starts yelling. "Stop it, stop it right now! It's draining the ZPM!"

Alarmed, John thinks _‘off-off-off’_ , and immediately everything goes dark save for the Earth-made computers, putting everyone on alert.

"Sorry!" John says, trying to backtrack. He frenetically thinks _‘go back to normal please’_ and Atlantis, thankfully, complies.

"Oh my god!" Rodney says, eyes glued to his computer screen, hands all but flying on the keyboard. "I can't believe you! You drained at least one percent of the ZPM with that little stunt!"

"I didn't mean to!" John says, his own hackles rising. "Don't you have protections to prevent someone from accidentally opening all the lights?"

"We don't need to, because no one can accidentally open all the lights!" Rodney replies, tone climbing.

"Well, that's not true, now, is it?" John says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He doesn't know why he does what comes next; maybe it's because he's fascinated at how red Rodney is becoming, or it's the fire in Rodney's eyes, and how he looks at John as if he's the biggest inconvenience in his life right now. For sure, John has always liked to push boundaries. 

Whatever the reason, John does it again. 

"Turn the lights off," he says. He follows it with the mental command, and the city obeys like a charm, plunging them into darkness again. "Turn the lights on," he adds next, bringing them back to normal.

Rodney has come out from behind the computers and walked right up to John, not even a foot away, his own arms now crossed. He leans forward, eye to eye, like a man not used to being challenged - or at least, ready to fight tooth and nail to make a point.

"Well, that was not accidental, now, was it?" he asks, dripping sarcasm. John can't help but grin, delighted; to his surprise, the corner of Rodney's mouth turns up a little in answer, too.

"Enough," Sam intervenes, exasperated. "Sheppard, stop showing off. Rodney, you know better than to take the bait. You'll have to work together, so please, be civil."

"We're going to get along fine," John says, winking at Rodney. It makes Rodney blink, unsure, but the almost smile hasn't dropped entirely off. 

"John, Ronon will bring you to you your quarters where you can put your belongings," Sam says, and the big guy nods. "Then, he'll take you on a tour of the city."

That sounds pretty fantastic. John has seen some pictures in the files, but he has a feeling that they don't do Atlantis justice; he can't wait to take his own.

"Cool."

"No," Rodney says immediately. "Ronon, bring him to the labs. I'll take Sheppard on the tour and see if he can at least be useful." 

"See?" John says, smiling at Sam. "It's going to be great. See you later, Rodney!"

Ronon gestures that they'll go to the left and John hauls his bags, following. He can feel the eyes from the entire personnel in the room on him. Rodney's in particular are like a brand, and John _likes_ it. 

He is self-aware enough to realize it means trouble.

**

His quarters are small and his bed is tiny, but John couldn't care less. Even the most ordinary corridor here has a little something that calls to him, and more often than not, he finds himself touching the walls, just to feel the connection. He's not dreaming it up: the City is thrilled to have him. 

Ronon watches John's antics with amusement but doesn't speak much, save from when he’s pointing this way or that, to tell John the way to the mess or the gym. When John finally remembers that he has a job to do and starts taking pictures, he notices Ronon's interest.

"So you're only going to take pictures?" he asks, after John takes a moment to frame a particularly interesting – to him – decoration on the wall.

"That's what I was hired for," John says, looking at the shots on the LCD screen. 

"Just the City?"

"I should gate out, so other planets, too. And people, of course. Do you think it could be a problem?" John asks.

Ronon frowns. "A problem? Why?"

"Well, on Earth some cultures think it steals their souls, and also many people don't like it," John says.

"Steals their soul." Ronon looks as if it is the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "I don't think it's forbidden anywhere I heard of, but technology isn't spread out, so what do I know. Genii could be opposed for tactical reasons."

"Yeah, I guess. Do I have permission to take pictures of you?"

Ronon smirks. "What, like what you see?"

"Definitely," John says with a wink, since Ronon is, indeed, way hot. 

He doesn't ping John's gaydar at all, though, which is a shame. Also there is the slight inconvenience that John has already started to fixate on blue eyes and a sharp tongue. His attraction to Ronon is at the moment purely based on aesthetics. 

The playful flirting nonetheless earns John the first full smile by the big guy, and it's beautiful. 

"I don't mind the pictures, as long as you make me look good," Ronon says, with the confidence of a man who knows perfectly well that he always looks stunning.

"It's a deal," John says. "I'm going to make you an alien heartthrob. The boys and girls back home will swoon. It's going to do wonders for the SGC's popularity, just watch it."

"I do not need fans," Ronon says, chuckling. "I already have a girlfriend."

And that is a smooth as hell way to let John know the flirting is fun but won't go anywhere.

"Is she from Earth?" John asks.

"Yeah," Ronon says, and it's cute how he suddenly looks bashful. The relationship must be pretty new. "A medic. Jennifer."

"Well, there you go," John says. "It will give hope to the women of Earth that ‘yes, a sexy alien could be in their future’. Add Teyla, and I can cover all the bases."

"Careful, she'll kick your ass!" Ronon says, laughing as sliding doors open; everyone in the room, McKay included, turns to stare.

"I can't believe this," Rodney says, having walked closer. "I thought for weeks Ronon would bite my head off and you've got him laughing in under an hour."

Ronon grins and captures Rodney by the back of the neck, shaking him playfully.

"Frankly, I still debate if it would be worth it to strangle you," he says; there's no malice in the act, though, just affection, and Rodney smiles up at him.

"But you don't," Rodney says.

"I don't," Ronon replies, finally letting him go before turning to John and looking him over thoughtfully. "Still want to show the new guy around?"

It's clear that Ronon doesn't really trust John yet.

"It's John," he interjects, though he can understand the sentiment.

However, Rodney makes a distracted gesture and continues his conversation as if John isn't there. 

"Yeah. I made a list of places I have a feeling Sheppard's gene could give the push we need to get answers."

"It's not that I don't want to help," John says. "But I'm here to take pictures."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Right. I'll talk to Sam."

"Seriously," John says. 

He had asked Colonel Carter, to her face, and she had said that while his gene and formation were factors, the PR was what he was contracted to do.

"Well, I'm sure you can 'take pictures'," Rodney says, making air quotes for emphasis, "and think at the same time. Probably."

John chuckles good-naturedly. "So are we doing this tour or what?"

**

The tour is fun. John plays light switch a little, makes Rodney febrile over a couple of consoles. Ronon tags along for a little while, silently watching. 

Out of everything he sees, three things make John geek out more than the excitement of being in an alien city in another galaxy: 

1) the transporters, because how cool is that?  
2) the chair room, where he felt a strong need to sit down. (Remembering what had happened in Antarctica, he'd refrained. Rodney told him they'd come back soon.)  
3) Actual alien spaceships.

"They look like cannelloni," John blurts out, because they _do_.

"What? They don't-" Rodney looks up, frowning, but then tilts his head to the side while seizing the Gateship (boring name, by the way). "Oh, well, they might. But please don't talk about Italian food? I miss food so much."

(It's a bit unfair: John found the food he’d had for lunch in the mess better than most of what he'd been served on military bases for years.)

"I get that they fly from gate to gate," John says. "But can they withstand space?"

"Absolutely," Rodney says, climbing in a Gateship by its open hatch. It's a practical little ship; the back is set for transport, with long benches with drawers for storage, and there are chairs in the front for the crew. "Some of the Stargates orbit over planets."

"Cool," John says. 

There is a computer plugged into the roof of the ship, and the guy that was already working on it is unceremoniously pushed aside by Rodney.

"So?" Rodney asks, scrolling fast through what appears like diagnostic results. 

"I can't seem to pin-point where the grounding is coming from," the other guy says, wincing.

"Really?" Rodney asks, not even looking up. "You've been at this for two hours."

"I've checked all of the wiring on the back of the ship, and-" the poor guy starts to explain, but gets interrupted.

"Okay, back is covered, I'll take it from here."

"Yes, Dr. McKay." 

By his expression, he's not surprised to be pushed aside. 

"I'll go restock Gateship 3."

"Initiative, that's great," McKay is saying, eyes glued to the computer. "Be sure the first aid kit is complete, ‘kay? Ford used to do it-" 

Rodney trails off, mouth slanting down, and John sees the young tech wince again, this time in sympathy. 

The Atlantis crew had been hit several times, John knows, and clearly, something must have happened to that Ford fellow.

"On it," the tech says before running out.

John has walked to the front of the ship and he's staring, perplexed. There are a couple of levers, but not nearly enough to pilot an aircraft. 

"Where are the controls?" 

Rodney looks up, frowning at him, but then cracks that crooked smile of his.

"No need. This is the kind of ship you fly with your mind."

"Are you kidding me?" 

John aches to try it, but he's still weary about the stunt he pulled by accident in the gate room... and in Antarctica before that. He doesn't want to suddenly send a spaceship careening into a wall.

"Sit down," Rodney demands. "And ask for a diagnostic."

The pilot's chair feels right like nothing has felt right in a while – he has missed his AStar something fierce – and, carefully, John limits his mental command to calling up a full system diagnostic. A three dimensional hologram appears in the space over the console, with writing in the weird alphabet of the Ancient, text scrolling so fast it must not even be legible even to one that knows the language.

"Oh," Rodney says, eyes wide, and rendering him speechless feels a little like victory. 

Rodney's eyes are scanning the text rapidly, showing he does understand it. John resolves to learn as soon as possible, because that's unfair. He gently nudges the ship again, and with little pleading, the Ancient text turns into graphs, equations and schematics. 

"Better," John says, satisfied.

"What? Fuck me," Rodney says, getting up and coming closer, eyes wide. 

Rodney's been rude plenty of times all day, but not crude. John is tempted to reply with an innuendo, something along the lines of 'sure, if that's what you want', but he refrains. He has a feeling he'd be shot down spectacularly, or that Rodney would think he's just joking – at this point he wouldn't be - and he doesn't want to risk either. Sure, riling Rodney up is as fun here and now as it was in Antarctica, but after half a day spent with the guy he's actually having _fun_ with him. Sarcasm has always been a surefire way to get John's interest, and he instinctively knows they will get along famously. It's not just a line to feed Carter. 

"Well, I'll be damned," Rodney says, going to the toolbox.

At the very least, John can help here, and hopefully, it can be a regular thing. He wouldn't mind spending more time in the Gateships, even if it's just to help fixing them.

"The grounding is by the-"

"Left thruster, yes, saw it," Rodney is already prying loose a bit of the floor. 

"Need-"

"No, no, I've got it," Rodney says. "I know where it is."

He's now half swallowed into the undercarriage of the ship, and it gives John a very nice view of his ass. Rodney has bulked up a little since they first met, trading fat for muscle. It suits him very well.

"Hey Rodney," John asks, legitimately curious. "Do you go out in the field, or do you stay in Atlantis most of the time?"

"Of course I go out." There are a couple of clangs, as if Rodney has trouble reaching his target to fix the electrical problem. The schematics do show a metal plate around the thruster. "Best way to assess tech and potential for ZPMs."

"One is best served by oneself, huh?" 

"Bingo. Why, you think I'm too scared to face the outside world?" Rodney asks, sounding miffed.

"I never said that. But it would make sense to keep the Head of Science safe in the city," John says.

"Ha. If you think this place is safe, I have news for you, Sheppard. But hey, I'll let you and the Big Girl have your honeymoon phase."

John laughs. "Honeymoon phase?"

On the hologram, the electrical integrity of the Gateship is green again, grounded wire repaired. Rodney reappears in the cockpit, flushed from being upside down for a couple of minutes.

"Definitely. Atlantis has been rolling over showing her belly from the moment you got here," Rodney says, clearly unenthused.

"Jealous?" John teases.

"Yes," Rodney admits, meeting John's eyes straight on. It's a surprising confession, genuine too. "Who knows how many we could have saved, if we only had that potential."

It makes something sour in John's stomach. It would be easy to get defensive, but Rodney's words aren’t formulated as an accusation. It's just a fact that Rodney states, and since John has read only the bare bones of what they went through, he can't argue. He nods, giving the affirmation the gravity it deserves, and Rodney seems pleased at the reaction.

"So, do you have the pictures you need here?" he asks. 

It's a good thing that John doesn't blush when he's embarrassed, because he’d been too distracted by the Gateship to take even a _single_ shot; still, Rodney smirks, seeing right through him. "Well, it's not like it's the last time you’ll be in one."

"I sure hope not," John says with a smile. 

"Get up," Rodney says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the second chair up front. "Go, get out of the way."

John reluctantly changes chairs, the diagnostic holograms vanishing. He will have to set up something to capture how cool they are, hopefully without giving away too much of the tech to be censored. Rodney takes his place and clicks on his earpiece.

"Gateship One, McKay speaking. I request permission for a test flight," he says while the back hatch closes, new basic flight controls screens popping up.

"Yes!" John says, thrilled he'll get to try one. He's jealous as hell that he can't pilot, but going on a ride is already a lot.

Rodney nods - most likely, receiving the approval.

"Understood. Won't be long."

Further down the hangar, a wall slides up and, with a shudder, the Gateship comes to life. Rodney makes it glide out. 

"It's pretty silent," John says, getting his camera. 

"Yes. Not the fastest of ships, but efficient," Rodney says. There is a red line drawn on the map shown by the hull, and it seems to take Rodney a bit of concentration to follow it. John is tempted to offer advice – mainly to breathe and take it easy - but he's pretty sure it would not be welcome at all. The scrutiny makes Rodney uncomfortable, and even more jittery. 

"I don't- I've just started to pilot more. Stop looking at me, look at the view."

Yes, right. John turns to the window and the breath is knocked out of him. They are quickly gaining altitude, weaving spears that are stretching up and up, the city profiled against blue skies. When Rodney turns the Gateship around at last, the feeling is indescribable. John feels it in his bones: he was _meant_ to be here. 

Atlantis is shaped like a snowflake, cradled in the sea. After a moment to take it all in, John finally brings his camera up and starts taking pictures after pictures.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?" Rodney asks.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," John admits.

It makes a guy regret he'd drawn tails.

**

Sometimes, when John sees the Marines do an exercise, or just walk by with the particular intent that takes over the men before a mission, he forgets for a second that it's not his world anymore. It's not that he misses it, not exactly, but it's easier to navigate when you know the system. As a civilian, John doesn't fit in a neat pre-made little box like he did with the military. Out of the Forces, if John wants acquaintances, let alone friends, he has to make an effort. It has never been his forte. 

Thankfully, it's not like he's the new kid in school without any idea how to act; John _does_ have offers for company. Case in point, Lorne, who invited him to a card game a couple of nights ago with a couple of his officers and Marines. It's normal, easy, and John knows he was invited because he used to be one of them. Does he really want to be again? He's not sure. John got out of the Air Force for good reasons, after all.

What he'd really like, though, is to be part of a Gate Team. He loves Atlantis like he's rarely loved a place, but he itches to see more of Pegasus, to go explore other planets. And let's be real, he's got his heart set on one Gate Team in particular. Speaking of, he spots Teyla, Ronon and Rodney at their usual spot in the mess hall. After loading his tray, John walks over and sits with them. 

"Hello, John," Teyla greets him, as regal as ever.

"Hi," he says. "What's up?"

"Trade. We got a good deal on Illos," Ronon says, throwing up and catching one of the little sour plums. You either love them or hate them, it seems, and John is not a fan.

"A deal? You mean I worked all day, breaking my back, in the sun, and you got a couple of crates of the stuff," Rodney says, scrolling down his tablet. "I'd hardly call that a deal."

Ronon grins. "Meanwhile, we tried the hot springs. A great deal."

John snort-laughs, though he gets why Rodney is grumpy. He spots the pudding on Rodney's tray, abandoned, and puts it on his own. No need to let it go to waste. A second later Rodney looks up and frowns, then snatches it back, probably to be contrary. Too bad, the mess' caramel pudding is generally good and they didn't have any left. Ronon has some on his tray too, but if the pudding is good, it's not worth the risk of losing a hand. Teyla, bless her, has watched the interactions and gives John her own cup and he smiles widely. 

"You are the best," John says. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. I think I will get more plums. They are more to my taste," she says.

"Sacrilege," John teases, throwing Rodney a look because he's sure he'll back him up on this. 

Instead of giving the Pegasus natives a treaty on the awesomeness of caramel, like John almost expects, Rodney is still looking at his tablet, frowning and distant. That is no fun.

"Is there something wrong with Atlantis?" John asks. He wonders if he could sense it, if there was a situation. Would she warn him?

"What?" Rodney looks up, confused. "No. Well, nothing we didn't know about."

John gestures to the tablet. "You look preoccupied."

Rodney sighs, looks like he's going to say something, but eventually shakes his head no. 

"Not more than usual. Lots of idiotic emails from supposedly intelligent people, but that's the norm."

"Oh, that." John is definitely relieved he has limited paperwork. Which makes him remember. "Oh, hey, Rodney. When are you coming over for your photo op?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. "You did not just ask me that."

He's been particularly reluctant to the idea. His opinion on the stupidity of the PR situation has been expressed loudly and in several occasions, and not only to John. 

"I have real work to do," Rodney adds before fleeing to his lab.

"You'll have to come over one day!" John shouts at his retreating back.

**

There is John's job - which is pretty repetitive, all things considered, unless he goes exploring the city (and he can't alone, which is endlessly frustrating) - and then there is also the little bit of time that he has for fun, during which John finds himself trying to fit in. 

One of his favorite activities, he finds, is learning to fight with the Bantos rods. Teyla is the expedition's trainer and she's really impressive, all grace and effective movements. John has a long way to go, and it seems that Teyla doesn't believe in babying her students at all. He has an unofficial schedule that depends on AR1's activity outside of Atlantis, but John goes as often as he can manage.

Unfortunately, today Ronon is in the gym, too. Oh, don't get him wrong; looking at him and Teyla fight is a thing of beauty. But more often than not Ronon finds it fun to send John to the mattress as often as he can when they spar under Teyla's critical eye. 

"Come on, buddy," John pleads, the fourth time he gets up. "Give me a little chance, here!"

"Why?” Ronon asks, with a toothy grin. "Do you think the Wraiths would pause to give you time to breathe?"

"We're among friends, here," John says, bending over while putting up a hand, pleading for one more minute. 

"I agree with Ronon," Teyla says. "You clearly can do better, John."

John is relieved when Rodney comes in, workout clothes under his arm. 

"You are just in time, Rodney," Teyla says with a smile. "Surely you do not mind sharing a lesson with John?"

"Oh, great," John says. "Am I glad to see you."

He hasn't seen Rodney fight, but he can imagine they'll be more of a match. On the other hand, surely Rodney had gotten lessons from these two for years, so... maybe not.

Rodney freezes in the doorway, unexplainably annoyed.

"You know what?" Rodney says. "I came over to say I really don't have time for this. I'll reschedule."

With that, he does an about face and leaves. John groans. It seems like his sufferings won't abate. After looking at each other and having a whole conversation with eyebrows and micro expressions, Ronon and Teyla start circling him.

"Guard up, John," Teyla says. "And do not look away, not for a second."

**

As it often happens, John's meandering within the authorized area brings him to the labs. Unfortunately, Rodney isn't there at the moment, or so it seems.

"How can I help you, Mister Sheppard?" Radek asks.

"Oh, no, sorry. I was just looking-"

"For Rodney, mmm?" Radek's smirk is self-explanatory. It seems that he’s noticed John's very badly concealed interest. 

"Yeah, we haven't hung out in a while," John says. He hopes he doesn't sound as petulant as he feels. It's like Rodney is always busy, these days. 

"There has been a lot of work," Radek says. "But since you are here, would you help me with something?"

"Sure!" The lab was always full of very cool stuff. Radek brings him to his lab bench, and gives John a pair of safety glasses. 

"There has been a series of very unstable crystals that I have been testing for robustness. I think it would be beneficial to verify their reaction to both electrical input and mental command. Rodney was supposed to help, but he is not here."

"Okay, sure," John says, sitting down as Radek places an orange crystal in a metallic contraption. 

"We will test electrical fi-" Radek doesn't even have time to finish his sentence that the crystal explodes, sending little shards of glass all over the table. 

"Geez, unstable indeed!"

"It is very annoying," Radek says, pushing the debris aside. "I will try another one."

This one is blue, and Radek writes down a couple of notes after its success with electrical current. John's command for it to power on generates a soothing blue glow that meets Radek's approval. The pink crystal responds just as beautifully. But as soon as Radek tests a second orange crystal, it shatters as well. 

"Two in two," John says. "Not enough of a sample for statistical accuracy, but my guess is that you have a faulty batch of orange crystals, Doc."

"It is possible," Radek says, holding up a third orange one in the air, eyes squinted as if he hopes to spot a defect.

John's attention is diverted when Rodney enters the lab. 

"Hey, hi!" John says, waving, and then realizing just how unsubtly he reacted. No wonder Radek caught on.

"What are you doing here?" Rodney asks, before he sees the bench and crystals and frowns. 

"Just helping out," John says. He takes off the safety glasses and walks over, leaning on Rodney's bench. "In fact, I was hoping to see you."

Rodney looks up, surprised. "Really?"

Well _he_ doesn't seem to have noticed John's interest, which is probably for the best. John's playing this one slow; he wants to make friends first, then _eventually_ ask Rodney out - do it properly, so it's not just a quick fuck (if Rodney is even interested in him, which still needs to be confirmed).

"Yeah." But now that he's here, John finds himself at a bit of a loss, and suggests the first thing that goes through his mind. "Do you think we could do another Gateship ride? That was cool."

That whole day had been awesome. Too bad they didn't manage to do it again - just hanging out and exploring.

"Figures," Rodney says with an exasperated eye roll. "I don't have time to ferry you around for your pictures, Sheppard. But I'm sure that if you ask Lorne, he'll give you a pilot. Now go, I'm busy." 

That is disappointing. And the dismissive wave is pretty rude, but that is Rodney. 

"Sorry. Maybe another time?"

"Yeah, yeah," Rodney says, already on his computer, shutting John out. 

With a sigh, John decides to go see Lorne - but to discuss the few Marines that haven't shown up for their portraits. If fun is out of the question, maybe he should be working, too.

**

Normally at this time of the night, there isn't much activity at the armory, save maybe from one or two soldiers. John still has no gun to his name, but he's allowed to go for target practice if there's someone to loan him one. 

He's happy to hear slow and steady firing when he gets close, it means that he might get to destroy a couple of paper targets himself.

Once he's put on earmuffs and glasses and entered the range, John's gaze is drawn by reflex to the target. It's pretty good aim, shots grouped in the middle of the chest.

"Good. Another clip."

"For God's sake, Ronon," Rodney says, sighing. 

He's expertly unloading the magazine and putting in a new one, though. It shouldn't be as much of a turn on for John as it is. (And not a shock, either. Of course Rodney gets weapon training. He goes in the field all the time.)

"Hey, guys," John says, and Rodney swivels towards him in surprise. Thank God he has lowered his gun, so points for safety.

"Sheppard," Ronon greets. 

"What are you doing here?" Rodney asks.

"Same as you, it seems," John says, nodding towards the targets. "Mind sharing that gun with me? Lorne allowed it, you can check if you want."

Rodney rolls his eyes but passes him the Para-Ordnance, handle first. "There."

"Are you any good?" Ronon asks with interest.

"Not bad," John says, before he aims at a new target and rapidly empties the magazine, one shot after the other. One of his strengths has always been accuracy, and he's pleased to see that all of the holes are grouped in a one inch radius, in the silhouette's forehead.

Ronon whistles his approval. "Not bad indeed."

"Show-off. This was his job, before," Rodney says, taking off the yellow glasses and his earmuffs.

"How about you try this?" Ronon says, before tossing John his blaster. 

It's like Christmas coming early: John has been dreaming about trying this gun.

"Really?" he asks, grinning. "Cool!"

Rodney is already getting out of the door. "I'll leave you with your toys that go boom. Good night."

"We're gating out at 7 sharp tomorrow, McKay," Ronon shouts after him. "Don't be late!"

The blaster is just as cool up close as John thought. 

"So it's just point and shoot, right?" he asks.

Ronon laughs. "Just point and shoot."

(It's awesome.)

**

"Thanks for coming by," John says when Sam Carter enters the room he's appropriated as his studio. 

It has enough windows to have plenty of natural light, but he has set up foil reflectors all the same. Atlantis helpfully provides any other lighting he might need.

"Sorry I'm a bit late. How are the pictures coming along?" Sam asks.

"They’re going great, thank you," John says. "Stand right there, on the 'x', please," John adds, gesturing to the floor. 

"Just like this?" she asks, falling into parade rest. 

John bites his lips in amusement; it's such an officer thing to do.

"If that's what you feel comfortable with, sure," he says.

They fall into chitchat as the portrait session progresses, but it's not very long seeing how Sam is cooperative and an easy person to photograph. Soon enough, John is sure he has at least half a dozen good shots.

"And that will be all for now," John says, checking his display. 

He has exactly what he's been aiming for, which is an intelligent and competent woman in true control, but with a spark of humor. He joked with Ronon that he'd make him a superstar, but he feels that Sam would deserve that spot. She'll be a hell of a role model back on Earth.

"Really, already? Oh, good," she says, pleased. "You're sure?""

"I'll show you my favorites, and if you don't like them we'll reschedule," John says. He has a deadline for the portraits of the core of the expedition, but still plenty of time to get them all. 

"Is everyone cooperating?" Sam asks.

John chuckles. "What do you think?" 

Sam frowns, so he hurries to add, "Don't worry. Lorne's been very helpful. I'm mostly done with the officers. I'm slowly getting the medics and techs."

He stops there but she reads between the lines.

"Rodney's giving you trouble."

"I'll win him over, eventually," John says. He's working on it. "And he's right that there is little time for photo sessions with the Science Division."

"I'm sorry to say this, John, but no one has time for photo sessions," Sam says with a wink.

He laughs. "I know, I know."

The crew, all things considered, is small for an outpost, especially taking under account how huge Atlantis is. They inhabit only a couple of towers, and very little has even been explored. Plus, there is the whole trade aspect that they are trying to establish, to be more self-sufficient - and that takes time and manpower too. It's understandable that the SGC's desire for more publicity ranks very low in everyone's priority. 

For sure there are one or two people who loved posing, not necessarily used to getting recognition. One guy even admitted that it was great because he would finally be allowed to be honest with his family about why he couldn't contact them more. John, for one, has always loved rubbing “it's classified” in Dave’s and his father's faces, but then again, his family isn't a paragon of functionality. Also, John suspects that more than one person came to check out the new guy whom the City loves. There's even been non-subtle flirting, including from a cute Marine, which was, frankly, surprising. ‘Don't Ask Don't Tell’ must feel pretty far, here, and besides, Lorne doesn't seem the type to give a man trouble if he's discrete.

Unfortunately, the one man John would like to flirt with has been busy in the last couple of days with an issue with the naquadah generators. Ronon and Teyla have had to drag Rodney to the mess hall, and even to his room for sleep, he’s so hell-bent on working non-stop until the problem is resolved. John doesn't feel as if they are close enough friends for him to be the one nagging yet, so he's just been watching it happen as it does, and honestly, he's envious of their team dynamic.

"I'll tell Rodney-" Sam starts and John shakes his head.

"No, no, if you make it an order, he'll resent it." (What’s more, he’ll resent _John_ , and John particularly doesn't want that.) "Don't worry about it; I've still got time."

Sam nods, but is still frowning. "What about pictures in the field? Would that work?"

John perks up. "It would be even better."

"Then I'll schedule something," Sam says.

"With Rodney's team?" It comes out sounding a lot more hopeful that he planned for. 

_Way to seem cool with things, Sheppard,_ John chides himself.

"They haven't had a stable fourth member since Ford," Sam says. "I think you could fit. They like you."

And isn't that great news - it seems the field mission wouldn't be a one time deal... but as much as he'd like for those people to like him, John's not so sure it's done already.

"Well, to be honest... Rodney keeps insulting my intelligence, Ronon smirks as if he knows something I don't, and Teyla beats me up with her sticks in training." And not just a little, either. She'd been very polite in handing him his ass every single time.

Sam laughs. "As I said, they like you. You've got field gear, right?"

"I wasn't given a gun yet," John says, playing innocent. 

She nods. "You were not supposed to have one in your official job description, but I'll talk to Lorne. You'll pass the qualifying tests with no problem, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says dutifully, beyond pleased. 

"We arm the scientists," Sam says. "I don't see why you wouldn't have a gun, when you can actually use one. Ronon will remain Tactical Lead, though. He's had the title since Ford, and I won't demote him for a civilian."

"Not a problem," John says honestly.

"Good. Ready to explore Pegasus, John?" Sam asks with a smile, as she leaves his studio.

"Yep."

He can't wait.

**

"Will you stop? I can't concentrate here!" Rodney snaps.

"Bullshit," John says, taking another picture while Rodney is swapping crystals on a pried-open control panel. It should allow them to open an old bunker that they found listed in Atlantis' databases. "You could do this in your sleep."

"He's got you there," Ronon says while watching the valley below them, blaster out.

They haven't seen anyone else on the planet at all; nonetheless Ronon's philosophy seems to lean towards 'be better safe than sorry', something John wholly agrees with.

"Stop encouraging the paparazzo," Rodney mutters.

Teyla comes over to glance over John's shoulder as he watches the last couple of shots on his camera's display. Coming in the field was the best idea ever, and he has the great pictures to show for it. Even more it's not just of Rodney; he's got some fantastic images of Ronon, Rodney and Teyla together that are among his favorites of those he's taken since he arrived three weeks ago.

"I can assure you that you look quite handsome, Rodney," Teyla says. 

"I know, right?" John says. "It's in the eyes and general air of competence."

To John’s delight, Rodney blushes. 

Ronon is still laughing when the bunker's door slides open, and Rodney storms inside. 

"Hey, wait!" John shouts, alarmed. Who enters a strange place without checking it out first? 

"Rodney!" Teyla calls out, following him, with Rodney, Ronon and John on her heels. Fortunately, the place is deserted, and nothing seems booby-trapped...

"Why did you do that?" Teyla asks with a frown. 

He's not bashful, John realizes as Rodney does an about face back towards them, still completely flushed. He's furious. 

"I'm sorry, I have a knee-jerk reflex to flee when I'm bullied. Lots of conditioning in my formative years," Rodney spits out, defensively crossing his arms over his chest.

John gapes, and he sees the same astonishment on both Ronon and Teyla's faces.

"I do not understand-" Teyla says.

On the other hand, John thinks he does, and it's completely his fault. He walks towards Rodney, who tries to take a step back but is stopped when John grabs his elbow and guides him towards the door.

"Come with me a second," John says.

"No!" Rodney says, shaking him off briskly. Jesus, it's as if he thinks John could hurt him.

Ronon steps closer, and that can't be good.

"I need to talk to you," John insists, being as earnest as possible. "Please, just a minute."

"You do not have to, Rodney," Teyla says, but the puppy dog eyes must be working because Rodney's expression becomes less defensive; in fact, he tilts his chin up as if he's getting ready for a confrontation.

"Okay, fine." 

He gestures towards the door and follows John out; as soon as they are in relative privacy, just outside the bunker, John turns to face him.

"You've been reading this all wrong," John says, but that opener is definitely not tactful enough because Rodney bristles even more.

"Wrong? I've been dealing with guys like you my whole life, Sheppard. I know the dance," he says.

"I'm not messing with you, Rodney!" John protests.

"You've been doing it since Antarctica!" Rodney exclaims.

"Okay, sure, I've pulled your pigtails a bit, I'm sorry," John says. "It was never supposed to be mean! And frankly, for a bit there I thought you were flirting back, and-"

"Flirting!" Rodney exclaims, voice rising. If anything, he looks even angrier. "Fuck you. I thought you were at least more decent than playing the whole 'pretending to like the nerd before making a joke of it' shtick. We're not in high school anymore."

"What the hell Rodney?" John says, getting angry too. "You're the one stuck in the high school mentality here! What kind of asshole do you think I am?"

"Guys like you are not interested in guys like me," Rodney says, stubbornly.

"Says whom?" John challenges. 

"I do. The universe does. It's known that people gravitate towards persons of equivalent levels of hotness, even unconsciously." 

It seems Rodney won't let go of that stupid notion, so it's John's duty to prove him otherwise.

"For example, Ronon, Teyla and you. You guys hang out." John's pretty proud of that one, especially since it makes Rodney frown.

"What? No, we're a Gate Team," Rodney says.

"But you are friends outside of it. Gravitation and all," John counters.

Rodney rolls his eyes. "It's… it's different, shut up. But it makes sense that it's why you want to hang out with them, therefore proving my point."

"Rodney, I am not trying to get between you and your friends," John says. Looking back, he gets why Rodney misinterpreted. John invaded Rodney's lunch table, his training, basically everywhere John could think of to spend time with the Team. 

"You're right though. I like hanging out with them. I like hanging out with _you_ even more. How many times did I come by the lab just this week, asking if you were free to do something?"

Even if Rodney seemed to be always busy, John repeatedly tried to make small overtures.

"You just like to poke around in the lab because there is Ancient tech," Rodney mumbles. He looks a bit unsure now, though.

"Rodney, the whole city is Ancient tech. It's more fun trying stuff with you," John says.

"Well, that might be because you're good for turning things on, but you need help to figure out what they are."

John smirks. "There's a joke right there, but I'll refrain." 

It makes Rodney scoff, and that's a good sign that John's finally getting through. They're good at banter, and John had noticed how progressively more distant Rodney had been recently, but he’d thought it was just fatigue from being overworked, not that Rodney had started avoiding him. As for what had caused the dam to break…

John fiddles with his camera, bringing up on the display the shot that Teyla had complimented earlier.

"I want to show you something," he says, turning the camera around. Curious, Rodney steps closer and looks at the LCD screen. 

The picture in question is a close-up shot, pretty much just Rodney's head, part of a hand, and the pried-opened panel. Rodney has a crystal in his fingers, ready to put it in place. He's focused on the task, even though he was bitching at John just a second before, and maybe that’s why his jaw is set in a serious expression, but the most striking thing about the picture are Rodney's eyes. John got lucky with the light, or the crystals did it, but they shine a very bright blue and are the undisputed focus of the picture. It's the gaze of a man who unquestionably knows what he's doing. 

"Would Teyla mock you? She was just stating a fact, Rodney," John says.

Rodney blinks. "Ah. Well. It's one good shot."

He looks a bit too disbelieving. So John starts going back on the pictures he took all morning. There are landscapes, flora, but mostly the Team. And, well, a whole lot of Rodney.

"If only you came to my studio for the official portraits," John says, trying to level it out. "Then Sam wouldn't have had to set up a play date for me to be able to take pictures of you."

"Are you serious?" Rodney says, looking up at him, and rolling his eyes when John raises his eyebrow.

"I told you that I don't have time for nonsense," he says, but still he looks back down to the screen, flipping through more of the pictures. "I didn't think I'd ever say this, Sheppard, but what you are doing is even more pointless than social studies."

"Watch it. You'll see, my pictures will definitely swing back public approval towards the SGC. I expect groveling when you get tons of funding for your research."

Rodney has stopped on a picture, one of John's favorites. It's Ronon, Teyla and Rodney walking towards him in a field of yellow wildflowers, the sunlight making colors pop up like crazy, maybe even a little too crazy. A short distance away, Rodney is holding his P-90, his posture relaxed and totally at ease as if he was born carrying firearms; Teyla is looking regal in the leather tunic she chose today, her hair a vibrant red in the light; and as for Ronon, he is his naturally gorgeous self, strolling confidently at their side with his blaster in hand. 

"Yeah. Pictures just like this one," John adds. "Don't you see, Rodney? I'm not trying get between you and your team, or whatever you got in your head. I'm just the new guy, who is trying to sit at the cool kids' table."

"Oh."

John is starting to lean in Rodney's space, determined to makes his intentions very clear by kissing the man (subtlety has been a terrible idea). But there is suddenly a very high-pitched whine, getting closer, and Rodney snaps his head to look to the right of the valley, where it's coming from.

"Shit! Ronon, Teyla, Darts!" he shouts, grabbing John's elbow and ducking on the other side of the bunker. 

It's tempting to peek around the corner, but Rodney pushes John firmly against the wall. 

"Stay put, you idiot!" 

Ronon and Teyla soon join them, weapons out.

"The Darts are Wraith ships, right?" John asks. 

There was very little mention of the Wraiths in the documents that John was given to read, just the basics. Like, that they’re very strong, life-sucking vampires, for one thing. The Wraith waited until the planets in Pegasus had large enough populations before they raided them and culled their inhabitants to eat them. They move in huge Hive ships, but sent littler ones to fight or cull. Almost mentioned was the possibility of mind control abilities, the postulation that the species might have evolved from bugs, and that they are nasty in general. John supposes it's probably all the information he needs, after all.

"Yes," Ronon says. 

The high-pitched whine passes over their head, hopefully without spotting the team. John gets a glimpse of profiled ships, made for flight manoeuvrability. He knows the Wraiths are the enemy, but they look pretty cool.

"We should go back to the Gateship," Teyla says. 

Rodney is swiping on his tablet and he curses. "Fuck, there are at least six Darts and I received no signal that the gate opened."

"What are Wraiths doing on a planet that looks deserted?" John asks. "Isn't the goal to eat people?"

"They must have a Hive ship in repair, or a factory of some sort," Rodney says. "I can't pick a signal from here, though."

"Recon would be good, but not on foot, too risky," Ronon says.

John has the feeling that if Ronon was by himself and wasn't responsible for the rest of the team, he would go anyway.

"I hope they didn't spot the Gateship," Rodney says. "Or we're fucked."

"We should leave now," Teyla says. "Before they do another pass over our heads."

"If you hear them and see a light beam, duck out of the way," Ronon tells John as he gestures for them to follow. 

They jog from one shaded area to another, taking cover under trees when possible. Thankfully, they have a visual on the Gateship without seeing more Wraith. At least, until the last dash in the open space before reaching the Gateship, that is. The noise is unmistakable as they sprint, but Teyla and Ronon are super fast, and Rodney manages to surprise John, and thankfully, they all make it into the Gateship.

"Why are we always running for our lives?" Rodney complains. 

Then he's staring at John, confused. "What the hell?"

Adrenaline having kicked in, John had instinctively gone for the pilot's seat, and he's already taking flight. 

"Sorry, sorry," John says, even though he's not at all. "But you fly this thing like a old man and we need to move it!"

John really didn't mean to take Rodney's place like that, but already he's getting a feel for the mental controls (how neat is that?). He shoots the ship towards the sky, avoiding the Darts that are hot on his tail. The Wraiths are flying in very close formation, and when John banks port sharply, one Dart collides with its neighbor and both go spinning down and crash in the valley. 

"Be my guest," Rodney says, rapidly taking a seat in the copilot chair. 

"Can you reach the gate?" Teyla asks.

"Two are standing guard. We'd be sitting ducks," John says. 

As cool as this little ship is, the Wraiths have a 4 to 1 advantage, and superior speed that won't be easy to overcome. 

"I liked the thing you did earlier, do that again!" Ronon demands.

"I wish. I don't think they'll fall for it twice, though," John says, trying his best to be unpredictable to avoid getting hit. The planet is covered with forest and soft hills; he can't see anywhere that could allow them to hide, or even attempt to lose the Wraiths’ tail. 

"Dammit, we need camouflage!"

When John banks starboard next, the Darts inexplicably… don't. They continue straight ahead and even seem to slow down, which makes no sense at all. 

"What happened?" Ronon asks. "Why did they stop?"

"Oh for goodness sake!" Rodney exclaims, outraged. "We're cloaked! The goddamn ship has an invisibility cloak! What the hell! Why am I just learning about this? Where was this feature any of the dozen times we would have needed it?"

"I just wished for camouflage!"

"And you got it!" Rodney says, all but throwing his tablet on the ground.

"This is a good thing, Rodney," Teyla says gently. 

"Way to go," Ronon says, appearing at John's side and clapping his shoulder. He's grinning, looking outside at the Darts that are now circling the perimeter, visibly clueless.

"Of course it's a good thing," Rodney says, resigned and also visibly relieved. "I just wish we'd knew about it before."

"You're welcome," John says. 

"What now?" Rodney says. "We only have two drones in this ship, not enough to take down the Darts that are left."

Especially since four more have just appeared on the hull's radar, coming from the East. There are still two Darts guarding the gate, so they are indeed trapped for the moment.

"No, but we can at least do that recon," Ronon says. 

They all agree on that and John flies East as the most probable place for the Wraith base. It turns out to be a Hive ship that visibly has been landed there for repairs. It's HUGE.

"Hey Rodney, do you mind taking a couple of pictures for me?" John asks.

"Why should I do your job?" Rodney asks as Teyla gives him John's camera. "And beside, isn't it supposed to be PR shots? Because I am pretty sure if Earth gets to see this, they'll petition to bury the Cheyenne Stargate under the mountain."

"Shush," John says, making 'gimme' hands until Rodney passes the camera over. He's nudged the Gateship into hover, still cloaked, so he can take pictures himself. "They are spaceships! It's cool! Besides, it's not written anywhere but I am under the distinct impression that any picture I take is going to be used as Intel gathering, too."

"Well, duh," Rodney says. "Why do you think I forbid it in the lab?" 

Rodney had put a very strict ban on pictures anywhere he worked in the city, to John's chagrin. It took away a lot of John's excuses to go hang out with him.

"How many Darts are there in a Hive ship?" John asks. Another two flew out as they were watching, but only one came back.

"Normally? I'd say several hundreds," Rodney says. "But right now they must only be a few dozens for protection. They would have left the rest with other ships."

Ronon and Teyla start explaining how the ship is built, which is fascinating. Meanwhile, Rodney gets up, going to a bench in the back where he starts pulling stuff out. John turns reflexively and takes a picture of him, and it's only after Rodney has put several little bricks in a row on the floor that he realizes they’re explosives.

"Wait, what?" John says, and Rodney looks up and raises his eyebrow. 

"Ronon was just about to suggest we go blow the motherfucker up. Am I right or am I right?" Rodney asks the big guy, who chuckles. 

"Yep."

"Go in, set charges, run for our lives. We've done it a couple of times before," Rodney says, going back to his task. "We have eight charges of C4, which should be enough to make sure it's stranded here forever."

"It's a big ass ship!" John says, wondering if it will be enough. He's been said to be a little reckless in his military career, but sabotaging a ship this big with only four people and eight charges seems crazy to him.

"Yeah, but it's alive. Explosions at the right places, and it's dead," Ronon says.

"What do you mean, it's alive?" John says, frowning. It's a ship.

"You'll see," Rodney says. "So, how do we split up?"

"You and Teyla, me and Sheppard. In and out, set the charges for five minutes," Ronon says.

"Shall we blow the control room and the bridge?" Teyla asks.

"Yes, and make sure you disable the neural interface and the hyperspace unit, just like on PCS-369," Ronon says. "Okay with you, McKay?"

"Sure," Rodney says, finishing with the detonators. 

"John, can you land the ship over there, please?" Teyla says, pointing to a spot starboard of the Hive ship. "There should be a door that leads us rapidly to the core of the ship."

"Not a problem."

John hopes no one will collide with their invisible Gateship while they are inside, but it's a calculated risk. He leaves the cloaking on and, after loading up with ammo and the C4 charges, they quickly run into the Hive ship. It's only then, seeing the membranous walls and how the whole thing is pulsing, that John understands Ronon’s 'it's alive' remark. 

"Okay, so that's officially disgusting," he says, wrinkling his nose.

"Try being stuck in a cocoon of this stuff and you'll learn what disgusting really is," Rodney says. 

"Let's split," Ronon says. "Wait for the signal, then set the charges. See you in the Gateship."

The plan is simple: John and Ronon are to go make a diversion, so that it pulls away any Wraiths that could be in the key rooms that Teyla and Rodney need to destroy. John follows Ronon through the weird corridors where the floor is covered with a couple of inches of white mist, as if the Wraith keep a dry ice machine running in order to make the place extra creepy.

They encounter their first Wraith at the turn of a corridor, and it takes a fraction of a second before Ronon blasts him. Unfortunately, it's not enough to kill the thing; the Wraith snarls and fires back with his staff. 

"Cover me!" Ronon asks and, like the crazy person he seems to be, he charges.

John does his best to spray some bullets in the right direction without accidentally hitting Ronon, who clearly has decided his goal is to go shoot the Wraith in the face at close range. It doesn't work quite that way - the blaster shot goes wide when parried, and the two collide. Ronon is powerfully built, but the Wraith is huge and visibly extremely strong. Worried he'll shoot Ronon and wanting to get close enough to shoot the thing before the battle turns ugly, John joins the fray. It's a good thing that he moves at that moment because he is totally blindsided by a blast shot that passes inches from his head. A second Wraith joins the fight, its staff aimed John's way as it strides towards them. John’s not quite sure how it happens, it goes so fast, but he is rapidly disarmed and the Wraith has a death grip on his throat, pinning him against the squishy wall.

"How many are you?" it asks, its voice a mix of hissing and something metallic and its skin pale and greenish, tattooed around one eye with a crude star.

"Wow, you're one ugly Paul Stanley knockoff," John wheezes.

Obviously, he won't be able to do anything about the hold on his neck. The Wraith pushes John higher so his feet don't even touch the ground anymore. John tries to reach his sidearm, and for a second he thinks he's going to be fine, but then the Wraith catches on and twists John's wrist, making the Para-Ordnance topple to the ground. 

A quick look to John’s right shows that Ronon is still giving his own Wraith all he's got, but it's mostly grappling and it's not looking so good. 

"I asked you how many!" the Wraith insists.

John has lived in an Ancient city for three weeks, and gone through a wormhole. But it’s being stared at by _this_ thing - with ridges on its face, slits for eyes, holes instead of dimples, and very pointy ugly teeth - that drives home the point that John is in another galaxy... a long, long way from home.

"We are multitudes," John says. No way is he giving this motherfucker any info.

The Wraith snarls, unzips John's tac-vest, and then rips his black t-shirt open.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," John protests.

There are actual teeth on the hand of the Wraith. It's going to _feed_ on his life force, right through his chest, and John's so not ready for this to be the end. He just got here! But before the hand – mouth? - connects, the Wraith jerks several times in echo to gunfire. His eyes lose focus after an instant of shock, and the hand on John's throat goes slack. The Wraith pitches forward, falling into John, and when his feet finally touch the ground again, John manages to break free.

"John!" Rodney shouts. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," John says, rubbing his throat. It's going to bruise, but he's okay.

Rodney is now by his side, blue eyes wide and worried, scanning John’s chest. He almost reaches to touch but rears back and looks up at John's face as if he really needs the confirmation. 

"It didn't...?"

"No, you got him just in time." 

John still thinks the teeth grazed his skin, though, and he shivers in disgust. 

"Thank God. Thank _you_ ," he adds emphatically.

The smile Rodney gives him is a relieved one, but most of all it’s happy, and John's heart lurches with the realization that he almost didn't get to see it again. And that, how a smile has just refocused his world, cannot be chalked to mere attraction and a feeling that they'd get along. It's got to be a lot more than that.

John wonders why epiphanies always tail adrenaline rushes. This was too close, and there's a lucky star for him out there. 

Rodney turns to Ronon and Teyla, who have finished off the other Wraith and officially broken the weird trance John was stuck in. Now is definitely not the proper time for life assessment. He'll save it for later. 

John takes a second to zip the vest back up over his ruined shirt, feeling oddly vulnerable, and picks up his sidearm and P-90 from the ground.

"All set?" Ronon asks. He looks pissed that Wraiths got the jump on them, but hey, it sure did okay as a distraction.

"Yes," Teyla says. 

"Let's move it, people," Rodney says, checking his watch. "Less than 3 minutes."

Once more they start running, and somehow luck out until they’re almost out of the ship. But even though the last 500 feet are under fire, they all make it to the Gateship. John hurries to take the commands – the Wraiths haven't stopped firing, they need to get out _now_ – and a minute later they are airborne. John doesn't go far, he just makes sure they are truly out of danger, and turns around.

"Ten seconds," Rodney says as they peer at the Hive ship. 

They can only hope that no one found the charges, at least not all of them. That question is answered when there is a succession of explosions that make a very, very pretty show. 

Ronon whoops in joy, there's a round of high fives, and John has never seen Teyla smile so wide. 

"You guys don't mind that I take a couple of pictures, right?" John says. Too bad he wasn't doing it when the flames were at their peaks. 

"It's your job," Rodney says, shrugging, a lot less condescending than usual. Looking at his tablet, he adds, "hurry up, this will bring the Darts back and we should have a good window for the gate."

"Right," John says, doing a ‘spray and pray’, finger locked in continuous shooting mode. He'll process the material and try to make something interesting with it later.

It's fascinating, and he's probably one of the first to take shots like this one, but frankly John wishes that he was taking pictures of the people in the cockpit with him instead. They are the heart of the story, and they should get the spotlight.

***

John is coiling a stray cable he'd taken out for a spotlight he finally hadn’t needed all day when there's a knock on the door. He turns to see Rodney, hovering in the entryway, looking unsure of his welcome. He's not in uniform - in fact, it's the first time John’s seen him in civvies; Rodney clearly came over on his own time. John isn't on the clock either, actually, but had just happened to pass near the studio after meandering a bit in the City after dinner, and decided to tidy up a little.

"Hey, Rodney, hi!" John exclaims, thrilled that for once he's the one being sought.

When they’d come back from M2S-029, John decided to give Rodney time to process what had been said near the bunker before he'd impose his company to the Team again. He's been busy, anyway: first, being chewed out by Sam about reckless endangerment (she was pleased, but couldn't show it, he's sure of that); then he'd had the "I'm disappointed in you, I thought you knew better," face by Lorne, which frankly made John wonder if the man could read a file. 

He'd also spent quite a bit of time with Radek, who'd been designated to explore the cloaking system on the Gateships while Rodney dealt with some energy problem for Atlantis. If Radek was right, Rodney kept bitching that he had wanted to switch jobs, but Sam had insisted. It gave John a little hope that it was not just the cloaking system job Rodney wanted, but his company, too. On top of all that, John really needed to get the expedition's portrait task on schedule, so he'd booked a lot of people in the last days. Thankfully, most were cooperative, and he made some headway in the deliverables. 

"Hi. So, this is your den," Rodney says, looking around... and underwhelmed.

"What did you expect, velvet curtains and bear skins? I'm doing company portraits, buddy," John says.

"No, no. There's just a lot more traditional photo stuff than I thought there would be. You use all of this?" he asks, pointing at a reflector.

"Yeah, it helps to adjust the chromatic balance, or to add pleasing catchlights," John says. "Depending on skin tone, sometimes Atlantis' lighting is better."

"Oh," Rodney says. 

John laughs. "You thought the photography was just a flimsy excuse, did you?"

It makes Rodney blush, so he's caught, but he raises his chin defiantly. "It is. You're delusional if you think you're here for anything but the gene. And maybe because of your training, and that you were once worthy of a security clearance."

"Oh, I agree," John says. "But I do know my way around a camera, too. T'was my job for the last three years, but I've also taken pictures since I was given a camera at 8 years old."

In his wandering, Rodney is now standing right in the middle of the set, and by instinct John goes to his camera, still on the tripod. 

"Let me take a couple of shots," John says. 

He expects being told a resounding 'no' but Rodney scoffs. "I'm not even in uniform."

John didn't hear a 'no' in this answer, so he takes a couple of pictures. It seems to surprise Rodney.

"No, but it's nice." Very nice, in fact.

Rodney looks down at himself and makes a face. "I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, Sheppard."

"Suits you." 

Rodney's indeed wearing jeans, not tight but still flattering, and a forest green t-shirt layered over a long-sleeved grey t-shirt that does wonders for showing off his nice shoulders. It's tight without being indecent and the undershirt is too long, the sleeves going to the knuckles; it gives a more vulnerable look than Rodney generally projects.

"I am pretty sure that it isn't what the SGC is looking for," Rodney argues, but he stays right in front of John's objective. He doesn't quite know how to stand, arms crossed at first. He lets them down now, stance open.

"Fuck the SGC, I do what I like," John mutters. 

The quip earns him the slanted smiles and bingo, John has captured it. He wants to document it and make sure it happens again and again. Revelations by epiphanies stick with a guy, it seems.

"I'm starting to get that," Rodney says.

"But, you know, I do have deliverables," John says. "You'll have to come back in uniform or a lab coat tomorrow and we'll do either the 'I'm going to make you cry' look or the 'I'm the most competent person here' air, just for them."

Rodney laughs and John's finger catches on the shutter. It's beautiful.

"Maybe, if I have time," Rodney says, but there's amusement in his eyes still. It almost sounds like he's considering it, at last. Maybe it's only to indulge John even if he thinks the PR campaign is ridiculous. John would certainly take it.

Sometimes it's the faintest detail that makes a difference, makes a picture pop out. A fanning of crows’ feet, caused by the hint of a smile, that makes the subject more relatable. The angling of a jaw that says cocky but it's deserved. The deep intelligence in a set of very blue eyes. It seems that John's able to catch all of that, tonight.

"Cool." John looks on his screen display and yeah, he's got good stuff. "Can you turn a little bit?"

Rodney rotates, but not how it will catch the light in the way John wishes. Instead of steering him only with words, John steps forward and positions Rodney by gently guiding him the other way. 

"No, just- yes, like that," he says, resisting the desire to prolong the touch. Rodney is watching him closely, expression hard to read. The air feels electrically charged, but John isn't sure now's the right instant to make a move. There is time, anyway, they can build their friendship up a little, make sure Rodney isn't weary of him any more, and then he'll take a chance.

He's turning around to go back to his tripod when Rodney catches John's wrist and holds.

"Wait."

John's heart is pounding, especially when Rodney pulls him closer.

"I hope I understood this right," Rodney adds, and leans in for a kiss - tentative, surprisingly sweet, and cut too short when Rodney pulls back immediately. 

It's nonetheless the invitation John wished for, so he reaches up to take ahold of Rodney's face with both his hands and kisses him back, firm and sure. Rodney opens up and a full body shiver hits him; they make the embrace deeper, wet, hot and intense, each kiss leading into another until they are breathless.

"Yeah, genius, you've got that one right," John says against Rodney's mouth before kissing him yet again. 

Rodney is an extraordinary kisser, all focus and as clever with his tongue in this as everywhere else. He has wound a strong arm around John's body, pulling him flush to his own, and John is extremely turned on. He grinds against Rodney, seeking friction, and finds out Rodney is just as hard as he is. The kiss only gets dirtier after that, as they start moving together. It feels amazing even through the clothing; John would happily continue this to its surely quick end, but Rodney slows them down. He even puts some distance between their bodies.

"Let's go," he says, breathing shallowly. "And let's go right now while I still have the will."

"What? Why!" John tries to slink back in, but deliciously Rodney is strong enough to keep him away. 

"Not here," Rodney protests. He kisses John's throat, making him moan. It feels so good, he doesn't want it to stop.

"Here is great."

"Here has no flat surface but the floor and walls, and I'm too old for that," Rodney replies. "So let's go."

Well, if a flat surface is needed, that means fucking and John is way, way in favor. He revises his earlier position... because he's adaptable like that.

"Okay, okay," he concedes, but then _has_ to kiss Rodney deeply first. 

Once he tears himself away, John grabs Rodney's wrist and tows him towards the door. 

"My room is close. It has a bed. Come on."

"Right behind you," Rodney says, sounding amused.

John's jeans are tight enough that they don't hide how aroused he is. If they ever come across someone, there will be absolutely no misinterpretation of the situation, especially with Rodney's own bulge and flushed face. 

They only have a corridor and a half to go to reach John's quarters, but halfway there Rodney snort-laughs.

"Eager much?"

Which… yes? 

"I wouldn't think it's a problem?" John says, throwing a look over his shoulder.

Rodney smirks. "You're lighting up the floor again."

John is doing nothing of the sort; he wasn't even thinking about lights at all. He frowns at the floor, puzzled to see that the tiles are indeed glowing just before he steps on them. If it's not him, and visibly not Rodney since he brought it up, that leaves only one possibility.

" _I'm_ not!" he says with a grin, but pats the wall, and Rodney splutters as they reach John's quarters.

"Are you saying Atlantis is giving us her blessing?"

John pushes him against the door as soon as it's closed behind them. He kisses Rodney as if it's been days, not less than two minutes. 

"I believe she is," John says. He does a full body roll against Rodney, who makes a choked up groan in return. "Anyways, I do what I want."

It was a deliberate repeat of earlier, and it has the intended result when Rodney laughs again.

"You're an idiot," he says, tone fond. 

"Maybe," John says, biting Rodney's lower lip. "D'you want a blowjob?"

Rodney's hand, resting on John's hip, clamps up tight at that.

"Has anyone ever said no to you with that line?" he asks.

"No," John admits. Not that he asked that often, but that's only for him to know. John's already working on Rodney's pants to get his fly opened. 

"Then I won't be the first," Rodney says, just as John sinks to his knees. "Jesus Christ, John."

John smiles up at Rodney, because it's the first time he's used his first name save from just after saving his life and he likes it. It merits a reward and he pulls Rodney's stiff cock out of his boxers, and then brings it to his lips. Rodney looks entranced, a hand now tangled in John's hair. Maybe, if John wasn't so eager, he'd take time to tease Rodney some more, but not today; he quickly sucks Rodney in, making him moan.

"God, yes."

From there John does his best to make it good, bobbing his head and stroking the base of Rodney's cock in counterpoint. Rodney has a firm grip in his hair, just on the right side of painful, and he's babbling praise as John tries to find out what he likes best only to do it again. John's able to make abstractions of his own needs right now, focused on the feeling and taste of Rodney in his mouth and the intoxicating smell of him. He's closed his eyes, immersed in the sensations, and only opens them back again when Rodney cups his face and stops him.

"John, John, I'm so close," Rodney is saying, breath coming short. "Now's the time to pull off if-"

He appreciates the warning, but John does want Rodney to come in his mouth. He deliberately sucks harder and goes back to the blowjob with renewed enthusiasm, which is clear enough, he thinks.

"Jesus, okay, fuck. You're so hot, this is so good," he babbles, hips moving in short little thrust, hot as sin but nothing to make it uncomfortable. "I'm gonna come," he adds, brought close to slurring now, which proves that even the self-professed most intelligent man in two galaxies can be overwhelmed by sex.

It takes only a few seconds after that and John feels Rodney's cock swell and pulse as he shoots in his mouth with a choked moan. The bitter taste of come is not something John particularly enjoys, but he swallows it all anyway, thrilled at how Rodney reacts with another groan. His eyes are almost hazy with pleasure, hands now petting John's hair as if to seek forgiveness for pulling it just a minute before. John pulls off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back down on his heels and looking up at Rodney with the pride of a job well done. Rodney looks absolutely wrecked, even though he's still fully dressed but for his opened jeans and cock hanging out.

Rodney is leaning against the wall as if his legs couldn't hold him up if he wasn't. John thinks he is going to slide down and sit on the ground with him, but he straightens up instead, redoes his pants, and then offers a hand to John. As soon as he grabs it, Rodney hauls John to his feet with surprising ease before pulling him into a scorching kiss that makes John's toes curl. _Fuck_ , he's turned on; now, he's afraid this isn't going to last much longer.

"Come on, now," Rodney says when he breaks the kiss. He looks determined, and there's a devious glint in his eyes as he marches John back towards the bed. "I want to fuck you."

John's eyebrow rises up, because neither of them are in their twenties anymore. 

"I'm all for that, don't get me wrong, but you must have a much faster refractory period than me."

The crooked grin that he gets in answer is full of promises. 

"Believe me, it won't be a problem," Rodney says, pulling off John's sweater as they speak and immediately starting to unbutton the dress shirt under it. Meanwhile, John undoes his belt and the buttons on his jeans, kicking off his shoes, and soon enough he's completely naked and pushed down on the bed, extremely aroused by all of this manhandling. A Rodney who knows what he wants and goes for it is hot as hell.

"Lube?" he asks, eating John up with his eyes, visibly pleased at the display he makes. It's not that John is insecure, but he feels himself blushing at the imbalance, with Rodney still fully clothed. John reaches for the bedside table where he keeps his supplies and Rodney makes an appreciative hum and kneels on the bed, straddling John's calves. 

"Aren't you a little overdressed?" John asks, giving Rodney the tube of lube and the - unopened - box of condoms that he brought to Atlantis. 

"We'll get to that," Rodney says, putting the condom and lube aside. He slides his hands up John's thigh, to his hips and then up his torso to reach his shoulders before going down his arms. "You're beautiful."

It's heartfelt and John doesn't quite know how to react to that, feels his blush deepening. He is saved from having to answer when Rodney plants his hands on either side of John's shoulders and leans down for a kiss. Even if it's soft cotton, his clothes are scratchy against John's sensitive skin and it makes goose bumps bloom all over.

"Won't take much," John says, panting, when Rodney pulls away. He tries to sneak a hand under Rodney's shirt but his wrist gets intercepted and pushed up towards the headboard.

"It's okay," Rodney says. "Don't fight it." 

If he comes too soon, then they won't get to the good part, and that makes John want to whine.

"But you said-"

Rodney smirks again. It's becoming addicting, especially in this context.

"Oh, I'm far from being done with you, Sheppard."

"John," John says, sagging into the bed. "Please." 

He doesn't think it's an unreasonable request, at this point. He doesn't mind being called by his last name, and he's more than used to it, but they are past that - at least while being intimate.

"Is this okay, John?" Rodney asks. 

For a second he wonders what Rodney's on about, but then there's pressure on his wrist and yes, that's right, Rodney's been holding it near his head. It felt so natural that he didn't even realize it was deliberate. If it is, since Rodney asks, that's because he wants John to stay put. To be good for him, stay in place, and fuck, that puts the difference in clothing and the hair holding earlier in another perspective entirely. 

John hasn't played with power dynamics much in his life, but yes, he's more than okay with it. In fact, he has a full body shudder as he's hit with a surge of arousal linked to the realization that Rodney fully intends to take control. John writhes on the bed with a choked off moan and hurries to put his second hand up, too, gripping the top of his pillow. 

"Words, John," Rodney demands, but his tone is soft, almost cajoling. 

Rodney's not unmoved, John's pretty sure, as he saw his pupils dilate while he got his hand up, but John’s sure Rodney will wait it out indefinitely without getting explicit consent.

"Yes, yes, of course yes," John says. "Come on."

"Have you done this before?" Rodney asks, up on all fours, one hand still at John's wrist near his ear, and focused on reading John's face. 

"Sort of. I've been bossed around, and I like it," John says, and tries to break the tension with a wink. Rodney rolls his eyes and it makes John breathe better. 

"Smartass. So clearly you've never done it with someone who knows what they are doing." 

"Probably. Come on, Rodney, you obviously do. I'm fine, I'll do whatever you want."

"Great. I've got you," Rodney says, kissing him deep and sure, before moving his mouth down John's collarbone, then slowly migrating to a nipple. 

Damn, John is so sensitive, and it's like the nerves are directly wired to his cock, making it twitch. Rodney said not to fight his body, to come whenever he wants, but John still wants to hold on as long as possible. It feels fantastic, and Rodney's caressing his body with those magic hands of his as he works his way down to John's dick, leaving John struggling not to writhe against the bed or to move his hips to get his cock closer to Rodney's mouth.

"Please," escapes a whine: ragged, plaintive and torn from John’s lips.

"You want my mouth, John?" Rodney asks.

"Yes, yes, please!" John would be embarrassed at how eager he sounds if it wasn't a question of life or death.

Without arguing or even teasing, Rodney licks a sinuous path up John's dick that almost makes him jackknife in the bed; it sends a jolt through his body akin to electric current. In response, the lights in the room flash bright, and Rodney chuckles.

"I hope that was just in here and you're not depleting the ZPM again!"

"Frankly? I don't care," John says. "Do that again?" 

"I'll do better," Rodney says, and he proceeds to blow John's mind. 

Well, technically it's blowing his dick, but the result is the same. Rodney seems to have mastered the perfect combination of suction and wetness, engulfing John's cock in perfect tight heat. Even if John wanted to fight his orgasm at this point, it would be impossible. It rises and rises while Rodney takes John's cock so deep he can feel his throat. John would tap Rodney's shoulder or the mattress near his hip in warning if he could, but his hands are locked up in tight fists on both sides of his head and he won't move them. Can't.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," John babbles as he closes his eyes tight, Rodney still relentless and now swallowing around his length. It's the trigger that makes him peak over the crest and unleashes a fucking tsunami of pleasure that flattens everything on its path. 

John is left tingling and panting when it recedes, crashing down on the bed – he hadn't realized he'd bowed up – and melting into the mattress. After a last hard suck that makes John twitch through the aftershocks, Rodney pulls off. 

"That's it, good," Rodney says. He's sitting up again and caressing John's thighs, looking him over appreciatively.

"Damn," John pants, and honestly, he has no other word. It might be because it's been a while, but he doesn't remember coming this hard before. Rodney smiles and slides his hands back up John's body until he reaches John's arms, then further, until he's grabbed his wrists. The whole move is deliberate and John swallows hard, hit by a new wave of arousal.

"So you do listen to commands, sometimes," Rodney teases, rubbing soothing circles on the inside of John's wrists with his thumbs.

"When motivated." And boy, he definitely is in this context.

"Good. I think I can come up with an interesting reward system," Rodney says, leaning down for a kiss. It's less urgent than what they've shared before, but just as thorough, a point being made.

"Sounds great. I like it already," John replies. He almost asks if it involves Rodney getting naked anytime soon, but he's derailed when there's a light tap on his hip.

"Excellent. Roll over for me."

John wonders where Rodney is going with this, but he complies. For a second he doesn't know what to do with his hands, since he's not been told, but it comes naturally to keep them by his head still.

"Good." 

It's simple praise for just listening, but it feels nice. What feels even better is when Rodney's big hands close on John’s shoulders, thumbs digging at the top of his neck. Rodney massages up his neck first, until he's digging at the bottom of John’s skull, before systematically going down his spine, one vertebra at a time. It feels either really good or is painful at hell where there are bundles of sensitive nerves, and Rodney just insists on until he groans in relief.

"You're full of knots," Rodney says. "Wouldn't have thought, looking at you slinking as you do."

"I don't slink," John mumbles into his pillow.

"You do. And you lean, too."

"Maybe that. Thanks for finally noticing," John grumbles.

It makes Rodney laugh. "The leaning was part of that so-called flirting?"

"It usually works. For a genius, you are surprisingly dense," John says, craning his neck to through Rodney a look, who shrugs.

"They tell me that no one can be good at everything," Rodney says. He's reached the base of John's spine in his massage, and he doesn't stop there, kneading John's ass. 

"If social awareness is where I'm lacking, so be it."

John snorts, because it's a very _Rodney_ way of thinking. 

"Admit that you like that excuse to avoid trying," John says.

"I do try," he grumbles, but then he's moving as if getting up and John frowns deeply, hoping Rodney's not actually offended enough to leave. It turns out he's just changing position, tapping John's hip again. "Come on, get on your knees."

The low arousal that had been building up through the massage spikes at the realization he's going to get fucked. God, he wants it like he hasn't for a long time. John starts pushing up to get on hands and knees, but Rodney stops him with a firm hand between the shoulder blades and keeps it there, keeps him down.

"No. Head down, ass up."

Oh, fuck, that works even better.

"Yeah, okay." He's breathing fast again, just imagining how he must look as he gets his knees underneath himself and does as Rodney’s asked.

"Good, that's great," Rodney croons. With long firm sweeps of his hands, he caresses up John's thighs, then his ass, then down the slope of John's body, his own body draped over John's. 

"Still want it, John?" he says softly by his ear. The clothes are still between them, distracting John by their texture.

"Yes, yes, fuck me. Please," he'll beg as much as Rodney wants, if that is what is needed.

"I'm going to get you ready first, and this time you don't come unless I tell you. Understood?" 

He sounds commanding, perfectly in his element, and John will do whatever he wants.

"Yes. No coming unless you tell me." His first orgasm took the edge off, but it's steadily building again and he hopes he won't disappoint.

"Perfect." Rodney straightens up, leaving John suddenly cold, except from the brand of his hands on John's hips.

John expects Rodney to take the lube and start prepping him with his amazing hands – and boy, he's touched himself thinking about just that, but he's totally caught unprepared when Rodney parts his ass cheeks and licks around John's hole with his tongue.

"Ha!" he cries out, pulling away in surprise, his stomach flipping. 

"If you don't want-"

It's undignified, but John all but shoves himself in the opposite direction, basically in Rodney's face.

"I do, I do! Please, yes, Rodney…"

"Alright, good."

Fuck, it's been ages since John was eaten out, and he's totally caught off guard at how thorough and good Rodney is at it. He starts by little fleeting touches that gradually get more insistent, until he's pretty much fucking him with his tongue as John keens, driven out of his mind with pleasure. And that's before, ages later or so it seems through the haze, those amazing fingers and lube get into play. John almost loses it, promise of holding off from coming distant in his mind. He's a mess, shaking with it, asking for more, more fingers, more please until Rodney's petting his back soothingly.

"Shhh. I've got you. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are like this, John, ready to take me? Jesus, so beautiful."

"Please, please," he repeats, the only word he seems to remember at this point, until he manages to whine, "fuck me."

He aches to be filled, to be taken, to be good for Rodney. His oncoming orgasm is looming, getting closer and closer with every stroke of Rodney's fingers as they unrelentingly graze his sweet spot. 

"Just a second, hold on," Rodney says, his fingers now gone, and John whines at the loss, at how empty he feels. "It's okay, just a second."

John opens up an eye, needing to see what is going on. Rodney is finally stripping, taking off both t-shirts at the same time and opening up his jeans afterwards. 

John shoves his face in the pillow, gripping it tight. God, he has to hold on a little more; surely he can do that. All of his senses are exacerbated, and the opening of the condom box seems overly loud. 

"Are you okay?" Rodney asks. 

John feels the coolness of new lube against his asshole and the tease of something more, surely the tip of Rodney's cock.

"Yes, yes, come on," John insists. He's trying to push back, but Rodney has a firm hold on one of his hips.

"Easy," Rodney croons. "Come on, go slow. Take all the time you need, there's no rush."

He's not going to thrust in, John realizes, but is waiting for John to do it on his own. The thing is, John doesn't want to go slow, he is greedy for it, and he pushes back with intent, shocking Rodney by managing to take several inches of him in one go.

"Fuck!" Rodney cries out, stopping John. It's the first time he has shown any sign that he's not in perfect control. 

"C'mon, c'mon, let me!"

"You'll hurt yourself, idiot!" Rodney says. 

"No, no, no, it's all good," he's trying to move, rocking towards Rodney, but is denied, desperation eliciting an impatient noise.

"I said easy, John," Rodney scolds. His hands are clamped on John's hips, holding him in place.

"Please, Rodney," John says. "I'm ready. I like to feel it. Please, I want you."

"You're lucky you're pretty," Rodney says, as he finally starts to move. 

He doesn't bottom out or start outright fucking him hard, as John yearns for, but instead goes slow - little jabs before pulling almost all of the way out before doing it again, further and further. The drag feels fantastic and, resigned he won't be able to hasten the rhythm, John gives in, upper body relaxed against the bed while he moves as much as he is allowed in counterpoint to Rodney's thrusts. 

"That's it," Rodney praises as he continues, and by the time Rodney finally bottoms out and grinds against his ass, he has wiped everything from John's mind but the steady rhythm that is taking over his life. 

"You feel so good," Rodney says, a hand caressing John's back before closing on his neck. 

"Mmm hmmm," John says. He'd like to reciprocate, but words have left him.

Rodney starts fucking him again, shorter thrusts now that light up John's nerves. Then one of them shifts, or maybe both, but Rodney's hitting John's prostate directly and he cries out. 

"Shit, yeah." 

It's building up fast and he rocks into the motion, seeking more and more. The need to come is steadily rising and he grunts at a particularly well-aimed thrust. It won't take much, now. If only he could touch himself, it would be over in seconds. That wouldn't be good, though, because Rodney didn't say he could move his hands, especially not to touch his dick. And, of course, he's been told not to come, so that would be extra bad.

"Hold on a little more," Rodney asks again.

"So close," John says, and he cries out again when Rodney speeds up, now pounding into his ass. "Fuck!"

"Jesus, so – hah - fucking gorgeous," Rodney declares. His words are cutting and he's breathing fast. "So hot, so tight."

John's aching with the need for release, but he doesn't want to ruin everything. 

"I'm - God, Rodney! I can't-"

"Hold on. You can do it." Rodney sounds so sure. "It's going to be even better."

It would be plenty good now. John can feel the pressure coiling so tight, ready to explode, and he has trouble sucking in air. He wants to beg some more, but words are beyond him now, so he bites his pillow, eyes screwed shut, willing his body to resist. He's moaning almost nonstop, the hum under his skin that he's felt since he's entered Atlantis getting more insistent.

"Fuck, John, you're beautiful, taking it so well." 

Rodney stops and John doesn't know if he should be grateful for the reprieve or sob because he's right on the edge. John feels weightless, and it's dangerous that he'd float out but then Rodney drapes himself over John's back again, grounding. The puffs of breath when he speaks against John's ear make every hair on his body stand on end.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"You." That's all he wants.

"You've got me already. Do you want permission to come?"

"Yes! Yes, Rodney, please," John whines. 

He jolts and almost bucks when one of Rodney's hands closes around his cock, making a tight fist. It feels so amazing but totally unfair, since John is sure he's going to lose all control.

"Oh God oh God oh God," he says, squirming.

"You're being so good for me," Rodney croons and John sobs. Fuck. He's breathing so fast, he's on the verge of hyperventilating. Rodney has stopped fucking him, but he's now moving his hand and John's never been tortured so sweetly. 

"Rodney, please, please, Rodney," he says without pause, a litany he hopes will work so that Rodney takes pity on him.

"Since you ask so nicely," Rodney says, as John tethers on the edge. "Come for me, John. Now."

It's like a switch was flipped and it's a sudden free fall, the rush to the head like pulling Gs. John's orgasm rips out of him, twice as hard as the first, at least. He remembers thinking of the blowjob's release as a tsunami, but this is like the shock wave of an A-Bomb. There's even the imprint of light against his closed eyelids.

"Christ," Rodney curses, fucking him with shallow jabs that are almost too much, before his hips still and he groans as he reaches his own finish, hands gripping John's hips so hard, John's pretty sure it's going to bruise. 

"Goddamn," John slurs when he manages to string two thoughts together. 

Rodney hums in agreement, and slowly disengages, pulling out and helping John lie down on the bed on his belly (even though it means he's straight into the wet spot of his own release). Frankly, he doesn't care one bit. Soon enough Rodney crashes on the mattress by his side and it's only great motivation that makes John able to turn his head to look at him. Rodney's eyes are half lidded, still pleasure hazed, and he's flushed a dark pink that suits him well. John would have thought he'd be smirking, proud of taking John apart so spectacularly, but his smile is soft and happy. He reaches for John's face, delicately pushing sweat-soaked hair off his forehead.

"You were great," he says.

"Ditto. That really, _really_ worked for me."

Rodney scoffs with amusement. "Yeah, that was pretty noticeable! Speaking of…" 

He bends to get to the pocket of his pants – they were only pushed down midway, John realizes, Rodney isn't naked even now – and fishes out his earpiece. That's when John places the tiny sound, almost like mosquitoes buzzing, that had started a couple of minutes ago: it's someone trying to get hold of Rodney, distorted by the tiny speaker. 

"What is it?" Rodney asks briskly when he's put it in place. There's more incomprehensible noises and Rodney sighs. "Yes, of course I noticed too. It stopped, right?" John wonders what they are talking about. "Radek, it's fine. I'm on it. No, no, no need, I located the source already, it's nothing serious. Okay. Fine, you do that. It can wait until tomorrow. McKay out."

"What's going on?" John asks, though he has a nagging doubt it's related to him.

"There was a very intense surcharge earlier," Rodney says, raising an eyebrow at John.

"Oh," John says with a wince. So maybe that bright light earlier _wasn't_ just his neurons firing up. "I lighted up things again, huh?"

"You definitely did," Rodney grins, "and as great as it is to know you're enjoying yourself enough for a lightshow, you'll need to find a way to curve it." 

"Waste of resources?"

"Among other things," Rodney says. "People will catch on pretty fast if it generally happens when we hang out together."

John grins. 

"So you do plan for us to 'hang out together' again", he says, making air quotes with his fingers. "That's excellent news."

"Yes, I do. Sex this good is sadly hard to come by."

"Awww," John croons. "I like you too, Rodney."

That makes him look bashful. 

"Yeah?"

John chuckles. He's still high on endorphins, feeling exceptionally great, and since Rodney does seem to plan sticking on around, John figures he has nothing to lose by being honest.

"A lot," he admits. "From the moment I got here, maybe even before. I don't care who knows about us. Do you mind?"

"No! No, of course not. You're a catch," Rodney says. He looks considering. "I'm a bit surprised, I'll admit that. Military men usually-"

"Not military anymore," John interrupts. "But you are not entirely wrong. I would probably never have risked this-" he gestures between the two of them, "if I had been."

Rodney hums and reaches out to drags his fingers along John's collarbone. 

"Well, then, maybe it's better that you came in late."

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be," John says. He feels that down to the marrow of his bones. 

As he leans in for a kiss, his gaze catches on the blue of Rodney's eyes. Blue like the open sky, like the ocean under the sun... like the glow of Atlantis. 

He’s found his way home.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Antares. It is so beautiful, I was grabbed by it as soon as I saw it ([please go tell her how awesome she is!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6551425)).
> 
> Also, thank you so much to the lovely [clarahow](http://clarahow.livejournal.com), who, without even knowing me, generously offered her help to beta this fic through the community [1_million_words](http://1-million-words.livejournal.com). She did a fantastic job, for which I am so grateful!
> 
> The title of the story is loosely inspired by the song Photograph by Ed Sheeran
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)


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